


Flowers and Honey

by DarkShadeless



Series: Flowers and Honey [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Dubious Consent, Endearments, Gentle Sex, Hints of subspace, I think I caught everything but yeah no guarantees, Implied Non-Consensual Body Modification, Implied Past Rape/Non-Con, Light BDSM, M/M, Piercings, Rimming, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Tevinter, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 05:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12336570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Alain has been his master’s pet for some time. Tonight, he swears to himself, he will finally do all that is expected of one such as him.It doesn't quite turn out the way he thought it would.





	Flowers and Honey

 

Alain isn’t taken to bed right away, comes into the household more as a glorified housecat than anything else. Something cuddly but leery of touch, that might purr if one can entice it into one’s hands. His master seems kind enough, he hasn’t been hurt, he’s kept well. He hasn’t even had to earn his keep yet, but that will come. It will. He knows this. Has turned the matter over and over in his head, how it might be best to go to him before the man becomes impatient with him and finds himself a less skittish whore.

After a month goes by, threatens to become two, the waiting is finally too much. Alain tries to hint, more than once, but he can never go through with it.

This time he will. Will go to his master’s room to offer- to offer. He can’t stand to be hanging in balance any longer.

 

 

His master isn’t surprised when he enters and pads over to him to sit at his knee where he reads. They have done this, often. There is a cushion waiting, just for Alain, for the possibility that he might want to join his master for the evening.

Soon enough there’s a hand in his hair, stroking it as if he were a favoured pet. And he is, isn’t he? That’s what he is now. A favoured thing to lavish attention on, if his master so desires. He should keep that interest. What if he grows tired of him? What if he is _sold_? To someone else, someone who won’t be so kind, won’t care to treat him like this.

He tries to conquer the nerves, turns to rub his face against his master’s leg. For the first time, since he has attempted to bring himself to do such, he mouths at the fabric of the man’s sleeping pants, above the knee. Follows the line of his thigh, a little ways. It’s too forward to be taken for anything but what it is.

The hand on his head stills. He does as well, heart hammering in his chest. Has he overstepped? Or mistaken his master’s interest? For all that Alain is his bed slave they have not even talked of such things. All he has to go on is the way his master looks at him, always seems so drawn to touch when he is in reach.

He chances a look, up, and meets his master’s eyes. Blue, as blue as the ice he wields. After a long moment the man puts his book down. Shifts to spread his legs and Alain knows where this is going, knew it when he sat here, tonight, is ready to- to- A gentle hold on his chin, keeping him there, where he can be looked at. His master hums, runs his thumb over Alain’s cheek. “Up, melitus.”

Up? Oh. _Oh_. The breath stutters in his chest. He had been afraid, yes, afraid but ready to do as he should but he had hoped- He had hoped he might get away with this tonight, with giving his master his mouth as well as he can.

Apparently he won’t.

Alain rights himself on his knees, pushes himself up, into his master’s lap. Hands close over the jut of his hips, help him along. Settle him there, once he is seated, legs spread to kneel above the man.

He looks down at him, at the man’s bare chest and tries not to let his breath come too fast.

His master reaches for him, reels him in, face to face. Studies him, like this, then presses his lips to his forehead. Alain’s eyes fall closed.

This is it. This is going to be it.

It could be worse. It’s soft, for now, kisses trailing over his brow, his cheek. Lips against his, gone again before he can open his mouth, can offer to be taken that way too. Lips, wandering over his jaw, to his neck. The kisses grow less chaste, there, just a little wet, sucking. Alain shivers. To his mortification he can feel himself grow interested. Close as they are his master has to feel it too. _But it’s better that way, isn’t it? Better to be aroused. His master will want him to be aroused._

His master’s arms wrap around his waist, push them even closer together. Then his hands slide lower, settling on his behind and Alain can’t suppress a small squeak. It becomes much louder when his master shifts and rises, picks him up just like that. He can feel his muscles work and Maker, but he doesn’t even seem strained. No southern mage would be this strong.

Alain has wrapped his arms around the man’s neck reflexively, to hold on, to not fall, and a part of him has frozen at the presumption. His master doesn’t comment on it. “Let’s get you on the bed, pet. I’ll not have you ravished on a chaise.” A kiss against his temple, the only thing his master can really reach with him holding on this tightly. “Not before I’ve properly enjoyed you. Perhaps another time.”

 _The bed. Of course._ Another thing Alain thought he might avoid tonight.

It’s not far. The gauzy curtains are drawn back, but they are a good marker for where they are, when he will have to let go to be put down, splayed out for his master’s pleasure.

He does. Lets himself sink into the soft bedding, curls his hands into the sheets and doesn’t hide. Even glances up, half because it feels like he should, half because, despite everything, there is something in him that wants to know how the man looks at him, if he is pleased. If Alain, who doesn’t really know how to do any of this, with only half-finished instructions to go on, is doing well.

His master’s eyes are dark. “My, but you’re a pretty thing.” He nods towards the headboard. “Up.”

Alain obeys, kicks off his sandals and slides up the bed until he can feel the pillows under his head. It feels a little like lying on a cloud, a cloud covered in silk sheeting, cool through his sparse clothes. They truly leave almost nothing to the imagination, sheer as they are. Unsurprising. It’s the set meant for bed, to be _seen_ in. Entirely white, it stands out against his dark complexion, even in light this low. The long, sleeveless vest is cut to fall open across the chest, leaving him bare from the hem of the low riding pants. The fabric is incredibly sturdy and comfortable, but so thin where it moulds to his body it does so perfectly.

As it is doing now. He knows his master doesn’t even have to take it off to see all of him.

He can’t make himself look again until the bed dips, until he feels he is no longer alone where he is. Until his master has settled beside him, still looking, trailing a hand up his side. Alain knows, he knows where this is going. There is just the one duty he has now, the one he hasn’t seen to. _Bed slave. Pet. The second one has even lost its sting, his master says it as if it’s an endearment. Makes it something that means attention and kindness, given freely._

Alain gathers his courage, pushed past the lump in his throat. “What would you like of me? Master?”

The hand exploring his chest stops where it is, tugs on his nipple, the ring there. Alain’s breath comes sharp.

It’s not the only piece of jewellery adorning him like this. The trainers had seen that he gained them almost as soon as they had him. As soon as it had been decided what he would be trained, sold, for. Apparently there were expectations as to what a bed slave had to look like.

When he had been brought here, handed his clothes and had his further duties explained, the jewellery box had already been in his quarters. Mostly empty, then, just basics. _He had never thought a time would come where he saw plain rings and studs for everything from his ears to his toes as ‘basics’._

The box isn’t so empty anymore. Even though he hasn’t seen to his master the way he should, over the weeks he has been here, there have been gifts. The other slaves, the maids at least that saw to his room and such, had oh-ed and ah-ed and proclaimed their envy. Had ribbed him about how he had to be making their master very happy. A well-adorned bed slave is a valued one. _He never knows what to say, then, because their master hasn’t taken him to bed. Has, at most, asked him to join him to eat, to play a game, to read or talk of magic._

He is wearing gold today, the set inlaid with Stormheart. It could have been simple if it didn’t shimmer when the light falls just right. As it stands Alain is sure he is wearing more money than he has been bought for. _And wasn’t that a thought that set his stomach to cramping sometimes. Lives were worth so little here. He was valued, if his master’s affection was any indication, but that could change._

Such are the thoughts that have brought Alain here, today. He wants his master to be pleased. He wants to squirm when the maids tease him, because he has indeed made him happy, not because he doesn’t know how to tell them that he has _not_. This is his Maker damned job, now. It isn’t as if he hasn’t been made to do similar things just to survive. To not be made Tranquil. That won’t happen, here, but he still doesn’t want to find out how other households are led, how another master would treat him. This one has been good to him. He knows that is worth much.

More than that, the man has been patient with him. Has waited for him to come here. Has petted his hair and made conversation when he came before and couldn’t- couldn’t. His touches are gentle, so far. It’s… It’s not what Alain thought he came for.

His master lets go of his nipple, pebbled with the attention. The ring is warmed from his touch. Alain shivers with the feeling. “I’d have you take off your clothes, carissimus. Let me see you.”

He does. Slides off the fabric that always feels as if it was made for that especially. He tries to move with the way it clings to him while still falling away so smoothly, revealing his brown skin, more dusky for how he is flushing under the attention.

His master moves, once Alain is naked and has spreads his legs. He settles between them, carelessly brushes the discarded clothing off the bed. Alain’s pulse is racing, from being so vulnerable in front of anyone, much less this man who has such power over him.

But his master seems content to wait, to draw things out and keep them slow. Alain isn’t sure if he is thankful for that. _He is. He isn’t. He can’t decide._

Hands settle on his hips, slide up the side of his stomach and ribcage. The touch fans the flame inside him that has sparked despite the dread of what’s to come. There’s nothing to hide anymore how his body is enjoying this. Slowly, with every broad stroke of those palms over his skin, Alain is growing hard.

Every now and again his master will find his piercings, in his nipples, the dip of his belly, and play with them. The gentle tugs make Alain squirm against the sheets. He hasn’t ventured any lower than that. Will he care to touch Alain’s cock? To find the bars on the underside and toy with those too? _What would that feel like?_

He hasn’t- he has never cared to touch himself often, with the scrutiny one could never escape in a Circle. After Alain had been caught and brought to Tevinter, been adorned for someone else’s pleasure, he hadn’t done much at all. What he did do, to feel how his body felt now, had not been the same as this.

Fingers, finding his chest again, catching one of the stiffened nubs. Rubbing, just rubbing but he has only gotten more sensitive there with every touch. He’s already so much more aware of them, with the rings, the weight he hasn’t quite gotten used to. Alain makes a low sound, almost a whine. It earns him a chuckle. “Such a sweet thing. Does that feel good?”

It does. It shouldn’t, this deviant thing that any Chantry Sister he had ever gone to confession to would be appalled by, but it does. Would it please his master to hear that? Alain looks at him from under his lashes, tries to gauge his expression. Amused, perhaps affectionate. Wicked. He bites his lip and his master’s eyes alight on that in a way that steals any words he might have said.

The man leaves off touching him, braces himself and leans in for a kiss. It lingers, this time, as it had on his neck, sucking and with flickers of tongue. Alain opens to it almost without thinking, lets him in to take whatever he likes. His master licks his way into his mouth, all slickness and heat, and leaves him panting.

He’s all over warm and, blearily, feeling just for a moment that maybe this will not be so bad. Maybe it will keep being like this, when they do other things. When this man takes other things.

His master lingers above him, close enough to feel his body heat. “Say, Alain.”

The name jolts him out of where he had been drifting. His master uses it, of course, just not in this tone when they’re- when he’s- when he’s being affectionate. They haven’t had sex, yet, ( _Yet. Soon. All too soon.)_ but he is that. When Alain comes to his room, to his arms, when they are alone. Petting, kisses, hugs. The endearments that come with that.

This isn’t sweet talk, it demands his attention, wants an answer. “Did you wash up before you came?”

Alain’s face grows hot. Even like this, naked, under him, mind half-filled with what will come, the question wakes embarrassment. _Wash up._ He had been taught, in training, how to please his master in many ways and that had been a part of it. He still had no idea how he had made it through the lesson.

But he had. He had done it, too, every day since he has become a part of this household, even when they hadn’t- You never knew when your master might want you, after all. When he might decide his patience had been enough and his appetite peaked. He had done it today, right before he came. Opened himself up with shaking hands, nerves already miles ahead of him, and seen that he would be clean. Had dared to slick himself just a little, driven by the memory of other people who had never cared to do such. How that had- had felt.

Yes, he had hoped he might get away with sucking his master’s cock tonight. He hadn’t thought he would.

Alain can’t meet his eyes now as he nods. “You did, did you.” A hand feeling its way down his body, cupping his ass. Fingers, coming around to brush over his cleft, over his- He goes stiff, but his master doesn’t push them inside. Just touches him, there, pressing down a little.

“And you made yourself ready. Not all the way, though.” Maker, his voice is so thoughtful, as if they’re discussing differences in magical theory across Thedas again. As if he doesn’t have Alain under him, all but ready to be fucked. As if he isn’t testing his hole as he speaks, for how Alain’s body gives to pressure.

His heart is beating too fast and he has to swallow before he can speak. “I, I wasn’t sure I was allowed. That you’d. Want me to- to-” _To come to you already open, already slicked. If that would displease you. If, maybe, you preferred if I wasn’t, at all._

His master makes a low sound, presses a kiss to his hair. “You may come to me either way, if you like.” He rubs him, _there_ , _Maker_ , as if that is a place to be petted to soothe someone. Alain shudders, his cock jumps. “If you want to you may do the work yourself but I don’t mind preparing you, pet.”

There it is again, that word that had had his breath freeze in his throat when he first realized what he would be. Now it makes something in him unclench, calms his nerves, a little. He is his master’s precious pet. Such warrants care. He wants that, the care, can’t quite believe he’ll have it.

The man above him rises, leaves him to sink into the mattress while he searches something, by the sound of it. He returns with a vial, dark blue glass and an artfully wound stopper. Little question what it contains.

All Alain can spare for that knowledge is a relief so blinding it takes his breath away. He won’t have to make do with little slick or none, in this bed. Not today, maybe never, if the reassurance is truth.

His master makes himself comfortable once more, leaves the vial on the sheets beside them. He takes in Alain’s naked body from where he is, studies him from head to toe. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

Alain never quite knows how to react to those compliments, the ones for looks he has been told he has but has never quite seen in himself. Wished to be rid of, at most. But he doesn’t have to find an answer, is kissed again before the silence can stretch. It’s deep and sweet and leaves him with his eyes shut against anything but the feeling of it before it’s broken.

He’s waiting for his master to speed things up, now, thinks he might even be ready for that, if he will be handled as carefully as it seems he might. But the man just nuzzles his cheek, kisses his way to his ear and sucks the lobe into his mouth, stud and all.

Plays with the soft skin and the piercing with his tongue and Alain jumps at the feeling of something so wet on a part of him that’s suddenly incredibly sensitive. The air is cool on it when his master pulls back, blows against it and makes him shiver. A low laugh. “You _do_ like this.”

He does. He does, Maker help him. The way the metal can be cold, hot, warm against his skin, the way his master pulls enough to be felt but never hard enough to hurt. “You know, pet,” There is something new in his voice now, something dark. Alain shudders with it, with the whisper in his ear. “I think I’d like to taste you. Eat you all up.”

He doesn’t say much more, after. His mouth is much too busy. He kisses and sucks his way down Alain’s body, stopping whenever something intrigues him. Like the rings, that he suckles on until Alain’s nipples are puffy and he’s whining despite himself. The edge of his ribs where he is ticklish and his muscles will jump with every touch light enough to confuse his body between that and pleasure.

His stomach, where his master licks into his belly button, letting the ornate decoration fixed there rasp over his tongue as he does so. It pulls on the skin it’s looped through in fits and starts, entirely maddening. Alain is shaking by the time he kisses his way down the cropped, barely there trail of hair leading to his cock.

He’s erect, has been made so by his master’s teasing, and he’s feeling so feverish there is barely any room inside of him for embarrassment. Alain is squirming with every new touch. How eager must he look? How ready? He can’t even claim either to be _wrong_. He’s so hard he aches and he has gone untouched, there. He needs, he needs something, anything, and he is too close to uncaring what it is.

The protesting sound he makes when his master pulls away just before he can reach his destination makes the man laugh and his own cheeks burn. _Maker, was that him?_ Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice he hasn’t heard since he fled the Gallows whispers vitriol, _‘Such an eager little whore.’_ Alain squashes it. Better to be eager. Better to enjoy this. Why shouldn’t he? If he could find pleasure here, why should he not take it?

“Now, now. Was there something you wanted, amatus?” His master knows what it was, what his body is straining for. His voice is warm and teasing.

Alain looks down at him, where he is bent over his hips and his smile gives him the courage to ask. “Will you touch me, please?” The moment it leaves his mouth he knows he’ll be toyed with more, just for that. He has been too unspecific, couldn’t bring himself to say it, and his master has a mischievous streak that will be woken by such things. Perhaps it comes from being so mired in politics most of the time.

Alain isn’t sure he can take it if the man makes a game of this, the way he sometimes does when they are talking. _It’s almost fun, then. Lately he has even dared to push back. To play too. His master seemed pleased by that._

Right now, here, he is burning up and- “Please,” There’s something in his voice he can’t name, must be in his expression too, and his master’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Please, it hurts.” It does. Not badly, but it does.

His master’s face falls into lines of sympathy. “Oh pet. Of course, then.”

He reaches for Alain’s cock, almost brisk, after everything, and feels it up. It can be called nothing else. Firm pressure, testing haft and weight. The thumb that follows the underside from bottom to top, sliding over the bumps made by the bars. Alain’s balls draw up tight just from that. Just from how the man catches the ball of the highest one with his nail and tugs, right there, a little ways under the head of his prick. The noise he makes is small and wounded and it has his master’s eyes going dark with satisfaction.

“There, like that?” Alain pushes his face into the pillows and nods, bites his lip so he won’t start begging for more, _more, please, anything, anything you want._

Perhaps his master sees it in him. The touch leaves him, straining where he is and then there is the sound of glass on glass. The vial. Of course. _So this will be_ \- He can’t even finish tensing fully with the thought before a slick hand reaches for him once more, making no move towards that other place, and steals it all away. It’s so good it’s almost painful and his mind goes entirely blank.

There is nothing but that, for a while. Nothing but the touch, slick and firm. Nothing but the fingers playing with his piercings and the loose stretch of his foreskin. He hadn’t thought his master would lower himself to touching him, there, much less kissing him. Kissing the head of his cock, dipping his tongue into the slit and Alain knows he shouts, his throat is burning with it.

There’s a hand on his hip but it’s not truly holding him down, is allowing him to ride up into master’s fist, his mouth. The man doesn’t take him all the way, just the top, tongue teasing along the underside, over the bars, when he gets that far.

Alain doesn’t know how long he does this, has him caught in the pleasure pouring through him like molten light. How long he makes him chase the sparks of it, gasping, words pouring from him beyond his control. _Oh Maker, yes. Yes! Please, master, please I need more, just a little more. Like that- Oh!_

His master’s lips close around the head of his prick, suckling, while his hand still works him and Alain knows, with blinding clarity, that this is it, he’ll- “Master, Master, you need to stop. Stop, I’ll- I’ll finish-“ 

He doesn’t. All he does is slide an arm across Alain’s stomach to pin his hips and then he _hums_ , hums with his cock still in his mouth and Alain is gone. Gone with a yell he doesn’t hear because his own heartbeat is so loud in his ears it drowns out everything else.

His master works him through it, still sucking, _milking him dry_. He’s helpless to do anything but ride it out, let him do as he pleases until Alain is whimpering, twitching with it. Half-thinking _he won’t stop, Maker, he won’t_ but he does. Parts from his softening cock with a kiss more fit to other places. A peck, small and sweet.

Alain is covered in sweat, panting for breath and he must look a sight. When he dares glance at his master the man is licking his lips, looking as pleased as a cat that got the whole canary and a bowl of cream, too. _He wanted me to enjoy this. He wanted me to come._ The thought is a little far away.

His master shifts back, parts his legs further and _Of course, he’ll want- want something for himself._ That prickles along his nerves, but he’s too pliant to tense at all. His hips are tilted up for a different angle, fingers part his ass cheeks and Alain shivers all over. Even that small pressure anywhere close to his opening is almost too much with how sensitive he is, body alight with his release. He doesn’t know how he will take- But he will have to.

A helpless thought, small and raw, flickers through him that _maybe if it does hurt, I can ask him to stop_ because his master heeded him before when he said that. Seemed to soften for his pet when it used those words. He might, again. Just maybe.

Alain is so distracted by the flutter of panic in his chest that the first kiss takes him by surprise. If his muscles hadn’t been all but useless he would have flailed. As it is, he twitches and lets loose a startled squeak. “What- Master, no that place is dirty!”

His master laughs, Maker _he can feel him laugh_ , and kisses him again. _Licks him_ , there. Every press of that teasing tongue makes him clench down instinctively. He’s too spent for anything but that, especially faced with the realization that he isn’t only sensitive down there when it comes to discomfort.

“But you washed up. You said so yourself.” He’s teasing him again, all pleased warmth, and Alain flushes all the way down to his chest. _Washed up._ He hadn’t thought that was for anything more but to make sure he was clean when his master took him. Hadn’t thought anyone would even think to do _this_ , to put their mouth down there and-

That clever, clever tongue slips past his entrance and into him, all slippery. His hands clench in the sheets.

The man pulls back, with a sound so filthy and wet Alain is lost for anything, gasping and staring at the canopy of the bed. “You used the Dawn Lotus oil, didn’t you?” Maker. He hadn’t expected his master to actually get close enough to _tell_. To _taste the difference_.

“Turn over, pet. It might take a little while before I’ve had my fill, so you’d best be comfortable.” _Oh bloody Void._

Alain does. He turns over on watery limbs, guided by gentle hands and buries his face in the pillows that smell of perfume and his master. Lifts his hips, when he is told, for a plush cushion to be pushed underneath and keep his arse raised without effort. Maker, his face is burning. It feels a little unreal, like a dream, but not a bad one.

Then his master spreads him out again, licks his way into his body and he’s helpless to do anything but moan. It feels good. It sends small jolts of pleasure through him, radiating out toward his cock. He’s too spent to get hard again, it’s too soon, but he can still feel himself twitching against the silks. If it was anything firmer, even fingers, it might have hurt, but it’s not. His master’s tongue is a gentler sort of thing. It’s slightly overwhelming, still, but not badly so.

Alain loses himself in it. In the dark, the softness of the bed, the smells. In the way his master makes him feel.

When the man has had his fill, presses close to kiss his neck, he is so pliant he’s not sure he can move. The body above his feels good, warm. He’s gone half-hard at some point and still it feels like he is the next best thing to asleep. Drifting.

Idly Alain notes that his master has lost his sleeping pants. He’s naked now, too. It feels safe, to just say the thing that floats through his mind. “Will you have me now?” It’s a whisper, almost swallowed by the pillows but his master must still hear him. He pauses where he is nosing at Alain’s hair line.

“I would like to.” A murmur, just as low as his own voice. It feels appropriate, for this dark place made of soft things and pleasure. “Do you want me to?”

There is a right answer here, Alain knows, but he can’t remember it. In its absence the truth comes to his tongue. “I want to make you happy.” A small shadow of discomfort clouds his mind. “Don’t hurt me, please?”

His master goes still. It makes worry nibble at him, threaten to wake him up all the way. _He has said something wrong_. _Hasn’t he?_

Then there is another kiss pressed to his neck, soothing him back down into that floaty feeling. It’s just as gentle and lingering as the last one, maybe more. “Of course, carissimus.” The warm weight of his body disappears and Alain must voice his disagreement with that because there is a hand on his back, gentling him. Sliding down to be joined by the other one, so his master can spread his ass. There’s something that will happen now but Alain can’t quite grasp it. It’s there, in his mind, somewhere, but to find it he might have to leave this place that is so comfortable. It’s just not worth it.

A new smell joins the other ones, flowery and sweet, like honey. His master’s lips, pressed to the small of his back in soothing kisses, _but why does he need them, there was a reason_ and then pressure against his entrance. He’s so relaxed, so wet from his master’s tongue, that the finger slides right in. Alain doesn’t clench, just shudders with it. He’s not sure he _can_ go tense, or why he would want to.

The finger moves within him, spreads that feeling of slickness that is more than spit. More lingering, and he had wanted that, hadn’t he? Had wanted the oil and the fingers and his master’s care.

He is getting it, now. His master is very careful indeed, getting him wet enough Alain can feel small droplets of oil run down his thighs before he ever pushes in a second one. Scissors them slowly, tests the way he will stretch. By the time they’re up to three fingers working their way inside of him, Alain is mewling into the pillows. Small sounds, little more than quick breaths. He’s getting harder but rubbing himself against the cushion he’s lying on feels like so much effort.

His master’s fingers brush over something inside of him that send a bright spark of pleasure straight through his cock. His toes curl with it and he moans. The quiet chuckle that earns fills him with warmth. It’s pleased. He has pleased his master. That’s what he came here for, isn’t it? “There, hm? Was that good?” An agreeing hum seems to be all Alain can manage. It earns him a few more passes of that spot, before the fingers are pulled out of him.

Fingers are good. They are very good, had he been worried about them before? Wasn’t there something else he had worried over, fretted until he could think of nothing but that? The thought threatens to make anxiety rise in his chest, so he tries to push it away.

His master is above him again, all warmth and comfortable weight. He must notice how Alain is tensing, because he shushes him, pets his side in long, slow strokes until he can focus on feeling that and not the things he tries not to remember. He wants to be here. He wants to take what his master is giving him. He’ll make it good, he said he would.

There’s something hard resting between his cheeks, where he is so open now, so wet.

“Are you ready for me, pet?” _For-? Oh. Oh!_ For his cock. Of course. Alain’s stomach does flutter, then, drawing him back to wakefulness. He can’t answer, can’t move but his master doesn’t take him. Just kisses the back of his neck and if he doesn’t stop that Alain will never be able to be touched there again without thinking of this _but would that be so bad?_

Preoccupied, still not all here, in the moment, he grasps for the man’s hand. He’s not sure why until his master laces their fingers, gives him a comforting squeeze. “Amatus?”

Alain breathes deep, breathes in the smell of flowers and honey and sex. He can do this. Long as he doesn’t have to let go, long as he can have that comfort he can give him anything. Anything he wants.

He nods. His heart is thundering in his chest and he’s shivering, his master must feel these things but he takes the answer he is given and lets Alain keep a hold of his hand.

He remembers now and he wishes he didn’t, wishes they had started this while he was still floating and woozy. The warm place is still there, he can feel it, but he is too aware of what is happening to sink back into it.

His master’s cock nudges his hole and Alain tenses without meaning to. He knows it won’t help, will only hinder. But his master is there, squeezing his hand and letting his kisses wander a little, to where his neck meets his shoulder. There he closes his lips over the skin and _sucks_.

Alain moans, sharply, warmth pooling in his stomach. His hips buck, much as they can in the position he’s pinned, and his master meets him on the return, when his body relaxes and can’t clench quickly enough to protest an intrusion. Pushes inside and he’s so well stretched there’s not even a burn. Only the feeling of being so _open_.

It’s just the head, just that, and the man pauses as Alain shudders with being taken. Murmurs gentle, soothing things into his neck. Asks him if it hurts, despite everything, if they need to stop. Alain has to take a few moments to breathe so he won’t burst into tears. Crying now will give his lover the entirely wrong impression. _Maker, I could ask that, couldn’t I? And he would listen._

This man owns him in ways no one ever has and this is more consideration than he has been afforded in any bed he’s been bent over in the past.

It dissolves something that had knotted up inside of him, leaves behind only relief.

They stay like that for a while, Alain shaking and trying to find his bearings and his master tense above him, doing his best to soothe his pet. Rolling his hips just a little, not pushing further, and Alain’s body loosens with it, with a moving thing inside of him instead of something he can freeze up around. It feels- it feels. _Oh._

He takes a careful breath and pushes up. To meet him, to get a little more of that feeling. Of that slick, slick slide invading his body, skin on skin. They rock, together, his master slowly working his cock into him, whispering endearments to him and how he is “Doing so well. Just relax, dearheart, we’re getting there.” The praise makes him feel warm inside, almost as much as the reassurances.

His master bottoms out, eventually. By that time Alain is nearly lost to need again, the way he was before. When he was ready to beg for anything, ready to beg to be fucked just so he can come, “Please, Master, I need to come, please, let me-“ He can’t stop, can’t stop begging. His body is pinned where his master wishes him to be. All he has is this and the feeling of being fucked open, so slowly.

His master is so warm. So big, behind him, inside of him. Blanketing him completely and filling him up. And it- it fits. He hadn’t thought it would. Not comfortably. Not like this. Not this shivery thing that makes his stomach clench, makes him tense around his master’s prick.

It takes Alain entirely too long to hear the way his master’s breath hitches when he does that. Something inside him goes warm and bubbly, when he does. _It must feel good. He must feel good, for this man._

It is so much better than he thought it could be, all of it, but it’s _not enough_ and with how his master’s cock touches that spot his fingers found, rubs over it so slowly, it’s almost torture. Unlike before Alain hasn’t been granted his release yet. His master’s voice is gentle, but firm. “Soon, melitus. You’ll have it soon.”

“ _Please_.” If this takes much longer he really will cry. He _can’t_. Can’t even touch himself the way he is held down, not that he thinks he would be allowed.

“Hush. We’ve almost done it.” There’s something firm against his backside and Alain gives voice to a shuddering sigh. _Finally_. He’s covered all the way now, he has taken all of it and maybe, maybe he’ll be allowed to come once his master is fucking him.

That, too, starts slow. Small thrusts that do more to acquaint Alain with the length inside of him than to satisfy either of them. He can’t hold still anymore, has been grinding against the pillow under his hips for some time. As his master builds up speed, takes him with longer, firmer strokes, he rises to meet them almost despite himself. He can’t not. Every time the man pushes in, settles deep inside, every time he passes over that spot that makes him grit his teeth against the pleasure, he builds a hunger in Alain he hadn’t known he could feel.

Maker, but he wants to be fucked.

He wants to be taken, hard, not hard enough to hurt but “Harder, Master please, I need it-” Because it _feels so good_. He hadn’t known it could feel like this. All slickness and sweat, the pressure inside, the maddening glide that was rousing him but not enough to bring him off. Rutting against silk sheets and cursing the smoothness of them for the very first time, because _Maker, but he’ll never come like this_. The hand on his, their fingers still laced. He’s past needing the support, so desperately, but his master hasn’t let go.

Over all of it, over silk and sweat and care unlooked for, the smell of flowers and honey. He’s sure it will burn itself into him, the same way the kisses are, on his neck.

His master is panting now, too, is having him just as hard as he begged him to, the sound of their hips meeting loud in the dark. The pleasure of it is almost too much, almost enough, _finally,_ but not quite.

But _oh_ there he is, reaching down cup Alain’s hip. The angle changes just a little and, distantly, Alain is sure they can hear him in the corridor. At least. If they couldn’t before, at any rate. With every push the air is shoved from his lunges in a shout, a cry. Wordless, now, leaving him to beg with his body, but his master knows, he _does_ , he promised he would get it, soon-

The hand leaves his hip. He might have protested, had he had the breath to do so, if it hadn’t gone for his cock. Wrapped around it in a tight grip, after nothing but the slippery caress of silk for all too long, and then it’s dragged up, catching on every single bar on the way. Alain comes by the second, a scream on his lips.

He blanks out. He must have. By the time he comes around everything is still. He is lying on his side and his master is going soft inside of him. He feels very wet, there, more so than before. They shudder, almost as one, when that makes Alain bear down much as he can. Which isn’t much at all, truth be told.

Their hands are still joined, lying against his stomach. He has to swallow when he feels that, blink away the tears that threaten to fall.

Lips, pressed to his neck. He shivers. _Oh yes, he’ll never be able to feel this again without thinking- feeling- without being here, with flowers and honey, in the dark._ “Are you well, amatus? Do you hurt anywhere?”

Alain takes a moment to think that over, to feel his cooling body. “A little sore, I think.“ He flushes. “I’ll feel it tomorrow.”

Another kiss, lingering and apologetic. “I will see to it that you don’t have to do anything strenuous.” He rarely ever does, mostly only has to do what he feels like or entertain his master if it is wanted. On the other hand, maybe that is exactly it. _‘I’ll not ask you to bed while you’re still recovering.’_ Alain breathes a sigh of relief he hadn’t known he had in him and snuggles back into the body behind him.

He drifts a little while. Eventually his master gets up, leaving him bereft of his warmth, only to return with something to clean him up with. The wet cloth is cool on his skin, makes him break out in goose bumps. Especially when it touches _there_ , where the worst of the mess is, where he is so very wet. Alain shivers and the touch pauses. His master continues even more carefully, soothing him with words he's too sleepy to understand. While his skin dries he's encouraged to rise enough to sip at a cup of honeyed tea. A far away part of him thinks how he should be the one to do this, to tidy up and take care of things. Shouldn't he? It's so nice to just lie there, let it all happen.

When it seems his master is done, dirty pillows and sheets pushed to the floor, and everything is ready for him to go to bed for the night, Alain pushes himself up, chances a look at his face. “Should I- Do you want me to-“ _Leave?_ He is done. He has done what he should, what he was here for. The thought of going to his rooms, laying down all alone, after all of it, makes him feel cold inside.

His master cups his cheek, just as gentle as when it all had started. Nothing much seems to have changed between them. “Do you want to?”

Honesty had done good things for him. When he was lost to pleasure, when truth had tumbled out instead of what he thought he was supposed to say. Maybe he should chance it here, too. “No.”

It earns him a small smile. “Well, then don’t.”

They trade a few more kisses before they settle down, his master’s arm curled around him as it was before. After. The breaths against his neck are evening out already.

Alain takes a little longer to fall asleep, mind awash with things he can’t catch half the time. _Perhaps,_ and this it seems to come down to, _this will be more than not so bad._

He drifts off to the feeling of being held, being warm. The lingering scent, so sweet he thinks he can almost taste it, lulls him to sleep.

 


End file.
